


Ineffable Prompts

by Writer_of_Words88



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Healing, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Event 2019 (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands Week 2019, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon: Good Omens, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Tattoos, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-12-28 15:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21139196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_of_Words88/pseuds/Writer_of_Words88
Summary: I'm doing the 2019 Ineffable Week with prompts from @ineffable-event on Tumblr. Check it out!PROMPTS BELOW!October 21 - *:･ﾟψ Light and Darkness✝ In the BeginningOctober 22 - *:･ﾟψ The Firmament✝ Look up to the sky and see...October 23 - *:･ﾟψ Land and Sea (and Plants)✝ Bad AppleOctober 24 - *:･ﾟψ Sun, Moon and Stars✝ Princes of the UniverseOctober 25 - *:･ﾟψ Birds and Fish✝ A Nightingale SingsOctober 26 - *:･ﾟψ Animals, Adam and Eve✝ What Makes Us HumanOctober 27 - *:･ﾟψ Day of Rest (Free Day)✝ To the world..?





	1. Day One: In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Good Omens FanFic Timeline:  
Pre-Canon:  
The Pharaoh’s Son – Egypt 14th Century BC  
An Angel in the Brothel – Pompeii 62 AD  
A Long Way from a Miracle – Italy 217 AD  
Christmas Special: The Church of Saint Crowley – Turkey 300 AD  
The Devil’s Favor – England 1066 AD  
War Times – England 1941 AD
> 
> Post-Canon:  
The Bachelor Party – 2019 AD
> 
> Separate GO AU FanFic:  
Halloween Special: Sleepy Hollow (Human AU)  
Ineffable Prompts  
Instagram Prompt

In the beginning, there was an angel and a demon. One was technically on apple tree duty while the other was told to cause a bit of mischief. Both failed on both accounts, and humanity had blossomed into something beautiful because of it. 

That day had been millions of years ago, and now, humanity had flown to the stars, leaving the Earth a barren wasteland. Aziraphale and Crowley stood together on one of the smaller chunks of the moon. It remained the eons-old clue in the mysterious death of the once-thriving green planet. They had both been there when it had been attacked, and they had been told not to interfere as the hostilities were not of supernatural sources. 

Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand. He couldn’t see the bitter agony trickle down the demon’s cheek, but he knew it was there, nonetheless. They watched as the edges of the planet scorched under the intensity of the sun. A sun that was so much closer than ever before. 

Gabriel appeared next to them, puffing out a small ring of moon dust from where he stood. Neither of them flinched at his presence. It had been ages since Heaven and Hell had come to terms with their relationship, and as long as they continued to perform their duties, they didn’t seem to mind. Most of the time.

The archangel held a clipboard and didn’t look any different since the day the Earth had been created, except for maybe a small blue wing tattooed on the back of his hand. He had experienced what the humans referred to as a ‘Midlife Crisis’ after the world hadn’t been destroyed the first time. 

“So,” Gabriel said, clicking his tongue. “It took long enough, but the world is finally ending. Not that it matters because neither side went to war. So, nothing was ever settled…again.”

“Again?” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Oh, didn’t we tell you?” Gabriel flashed him a quite unsettling grin. “She likes to reset things when the Earth is destroyed. Take it all back to the beginning and start from scratch.” 

Crowley acknowledged him for the first time and stared with his yellow slitted eyes. “She what? How long has this been going on?”

“You couldn’t have mentioned this sooner?” Aziraphale huffed out a breath and readjusted his grip on Crowley’s hand. 

“Well, I actually didn’t remember any of it until recently. Lots going on back at headquarters. All good things.” 

“So,” Crowley licked his lips and glanced from Aziraphale to Gabriel. “Are-are we resetting too?” His grip on the angel had tightened to a near painful degree. 

Aziraphale knew what he was asking. A reset would, in fact, reset everything, including them. They would have no memories of each other, and there would even be a possibility that they would never meet. It took a miracle for him to not collapse onto the dust-covered ground, but he didn’t let his fear consume him, he couldn’t. Crowley was already teetering on the edge of a terrifying cliff; so, Aziraphale had to be strong, he had to be the rock that bound them to logic and reason. For Crowley, he could be that strength, it had always been the case. 

“Actually,” Gabriel drawled. “The paperwork I have here is for you. She’s letting you choose this time. You can go to,” the archangel flipped a few pages back on the clipboard and squinted. “Alpha Centauri or–”

“That one! We pick that one.” Crowley stepped closer, pointing to the picture of the twin planets on the paper.

“Wait a moment, my dear.” Aziraphale sighed and squeezed his hand again. “We should hear both options before making any decisions, especially one of this magnitude.”

“Yeah, alright. Let’s hear it.” Crowley gave him a contempt smile.

“The other option,” Gabriel continued, “is to obviously start over and be an influence in the new Earth, or well the re-made Earth. But, no memories and no guarantees of how it will all end up. Could be Armageddon this time.” He gave a broad smile and crossed his fingers. 

Aziraphale shuddered at the sight, then he paused as a thought occurred to him. “So, does that mean if we pick the first option, we won’t be allowed to influence the growth of the Earth?”

“Bingo! Means you two will be banned from Earth or anything relating to the outcome of humanity. I, for one, hope you pick that option.” Gabriel drummed his fingers on the clipboard. “So, what’s it going to be?”

“We have to decide that now?” Aziraphale gaped at him. “Really,” he huffed in annoyance. Such a huge life-altering dilemma, and they had perhaps five minutes to decide which option was best.

Crowley huffed out a breath, then brought Aziraphale’s hand to his lips. He kissed his knuckles in turn, then eyed him. “We both already know what to do with options like that, angel. I mean, it’s not really a choice with how obvious they made it for us.”

Aziraphale swallowed down his fear and tried to rein in his drumming heart. It ached in his chest, a feeling he was all-too-familiar with by then. “Are…my dear, are you sure?”

Crowley gave him a lopsided grin. “Come on, angel. We always pick the fun option. I can’t remember us ever not picking the fun one. Not that I actually remember any of the restarts, but it sounds like something we’d do.”

Aziraphale felt his lips quirk into a small smile. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. We can’t give up now, can we?”

Crowley squeezed his hand, and Aziraphale faced the archangel.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and produced a pen from thin air. “So, the Alpha Centauri option, then?”

“No,” Aziraphale said. His hand trembled as he refused to release Crowley’s hand. 

“No? Then…then you _want_ the restart? You want to influence the Earth again?” Gabriel squinted at them as though they had started speaking some foreign language, which he couldn’t quite comprehend. 

“Yes,” Crowley hissed. “Seems like your stuck with us a bit longer.” He smiled at him with slightly longer canines. “Got a problem with that?”

Gabriel sneered and marked a checkbox on the paper. “Not my fucking choice to make. Sign here and here.” He thrust the clipboard at them. 

Aziraphale signed and handed the paperwork to Crowley. He squeezed his hand once as he gave him the pen. “My dear, I don’t know if you know how truly wonderful it has been to know you all these years.”

Crowley glanced at him before signing. His eyes had softened as he took the pen. “Angel, I’ll find you again. I promise. I always find you.”

Aziraphale brushed his hand along the demon’s cheek. “I know, my dear. I’ve never doubted that for a moment.”

In the beginning, there was a garden. An angel and a demon stood together on a wall, staring out at the oncoming storm; it was going to be a big one. The demon, Crawley, his name apparently, had just asked Aziraphale about a flaming sword, the one he’d given away. It wasn’t a terribly unpleasant conversation, especially for a demon. 

Thunder clapped as large splattering drops fell from the sky. Aziraphale raised his wing over Crawley’s head, shielding him from the rain. He wasn’t sure why he did it. It was as though his body had acted of its own accord. As though he’d done it before, so many times that it was second nature by then. The demon hunched closer, grateful for the shelter. 

Aziraphale knew he didn’t have to be nice to him. But it seemed wrong to leave him on his own. He didn’t think it would hurt to show him a bit of kindness when Crawley had been kind enough to wash his own worries away about doing the wrong thing. 

And besides, he had the _most_ beautiful eyes. 


	2. Look Up to the Sky and See

Aziraphale urged the stallion onward with a small miracle. Thousands of stars glittered in the night sky and remained the only light for miles around. The horse whinnied before pressing onto a gallop across the dirt path. The angel knew it was dangerous to ride at night. Any number of obstacles could cripple his steed or throw him from the saddle, but he had to press on. 

Some part of him over the last few millennia had developed a sixth sense for Crowley, and within the last hour, that signal had begun to fade. 

The sound of galloping hooves mixed with the beating pulse in his ears. His heart hammered against his ribs, threatening to break them if he did not find the demon soon. Aziraphale knew he would never forgive himself if anything happened to Crowley. 

“Please,” he whispered, begging for anyone willing to listen. “Please don’t let me be too late.” 

The sensation was so faint. It was difficult to pinpoint which way he was supposed to ride. If he was off even in the slightest, it could be the difference between feet and miles away. Aziraphale rode on. One hand clung to the reins of the horse, while the other gripped at the front of his coat. Its silver buttons gleamed in the starlight. He chewed on his lip, scanning the sides of the woods lining the road for any sign of the demon. 

“Please,” he begged once more. “Please help me find him. I…I don’t know what I would do without him.”

His horse rasped as it rode on. Its back had a sheen of sweat that glistened under the pale light. The poor beast would collapse if he urged it on without a break. 

Aziraphale pulled on the reins, slowing them to a sluggish trot. He patted the neck of the large steed, adding one more miracle to his list. He winced, trying not to think about the questions he would get for riding the beast so hard and giving it a bit more stamina than any animal should have. 

His senses tingled, and he froze, trying to isolate Crowley’s location. But something shimmered just beyond his mental grasp. Something soft, more delicate than the beating wings of a butterfly. Aziraphale let out a ragged breath, easing his heartbeat and calming his terrified nerves. 

_Look up to the sky and see…find your way. _

The angel glanced at the glittering stars. His eyes searched them, praying for his own miracle and praying for the safety of the own being who really mattered to him in the last five millennia. He froze as his eyes caught a small flicker. 

A star ahead of him and slightly east of his position, pulsed with a frantic light. It seemed to shine brighter than its sisters and quicker than the combined glitter of the speckled sea of darkness above. 

Aziraphale cried out, urging the horse on and hoped he would be close enough to Crowley before the horse could run no more.

Crowley lay in a heap at the edge of the tree line half a mile from where Aziraphale had followed the blinking star. He wore a dark highwayman’s coat with gold buttons. His waistcoat and undershirt had been slashed. Dark blood gleamed in the night, staining the grass all around him. 

Aziraphale leaped from the horse and knelt by the shivering demon. His skin had paled, lighter than the angel’s fair hair. Crowley had forced his head up as Aziraphale stooped beside him. His face had contorted into a snarl until the angel spoke. “Crowley, it’s me. I’m here. Oh, my heavens. I’m so sorry. I came here as soon as I could.”

“Angel? What are you doing?” He blinked, trying to focus his eyes. “Blood loss. Must be hallucinating. Did I ever tell you…that I find your backside _insanely_ attractive?”

Aziraphale eased Crowley up to a sitting position against the trunk of a tree. “As flattering as that is, my dear, I need to heal you before you discorporate. Please try to remain still while I work.”

“It’s too late,” he hissed. His eyes had curtained with golden agony. “I’m done for. Can’t even feel the pain anymore.”

Aziraphale sucked in a breath as he worked off Crowley’s coat and waistcoat. He had lost so much blood. Aziraphale tugged off the demon’s damp shirt and assessed the damage. Two large stab marks punctured his abdomen, and one massive slash had cut along his right side. His skin felt clammy to the touch. The angel almost laughed, thinking it had to be a miracle that he hadn’t discorporated already. 

“I’m going to heal you, so stay still until I am completely finished.” Aziraphale rubbed his hands together, readying his power.

“Heal me?” Crowley’s head lolled back against the trunk. “Angel, I still don’t know how you can be so sure you can even heal me. I mean, I know you’ve done it before and all, but really, angel, angelic, divine, whatever power, shouldn’tthat, youknowhurtme?” His words had begun to slur together. Aziraphale knew he had little time remaining. 

He placed his hands on the wounds, and Crowley flinched, hissing in pain. 

“Oh, fuck, that stings!”

“I’m sorry, dear, but try to bear it for the moment. I should be done soon. And,” he paused, wetting his lips. “As for how, well…most angels heal with the power they have inside them. They use their loyalty to Heaven, their gentle guidance to justice, and their faith in the ineffable word of the Almighty to heal the injured.” He paused, letting his eyes flick up to meet Crowley’s wincing stare before returning back to concentrate on his wounds. “When I heal you, I do not think of those things. My reasons to heal you are _selfish_. I want you to live on, to be here…with me. I feel defiant of the ineffable, anger toward the injustice of losing you, and a desire to be near you, to feel that you are there even if I can’t see you. I’m a selfish angel, and,” he licked his dry lips. “It is those passionate qualities were darkness thrives the most, and it is those feelings I latch onto when I make you whole again. I know it’s rather selfish and cruel of me to keep you here, but…well, I’ve realized over the years that I just can’t stand to have it any other way.” He glanced up once more to find Crowley’s eyes closed. 

The demon’s head rested against the tree. Apparently, he had exhausted himself, waiting…waiting for what? For Aziraphale? 

The angel didn’t know if Crowley could sense him coming to his aide. Perhaps a small part of him had waited for that exact thing because what else could’ve kept him from discorporating after losing so much blood.

Aziraphale sagged as the last bit of power flowed through and closed the wounds. He checked Crowley’s lungs and pulse. All appeared to be returning to normal. He needed sleep. They both did after that excitement. 

Perhaps he could ask Crowley what had gotten him into such a wretched state in the morning. For now, he needed to find an inn, one that would accommodate an exhausted angel and a snoring demon.


	3. Bad Apple

Crowley paced around the bookshop, eyeing the many volumes. In the last hour, he had spotted three new first editions, four print-error editions, and one book that looked like it had been hand-stitched together with thick cords of leather, or what he hoped was leather. All in all, it was the usual Sunday afternoon. Every so often, Aziraphale would acquire a new volume or group of texts that happened to turn up at some fancy auction, in which, he would drag Crowley along on occasion. 

He complained each time, but he was a demon after all. A sly smile painted his features as he remembered the near beaming radiance Aziraphale had shown during his latest acquisition. 

“Dear?” Aziraphale called. “Would you be so kind and bring me that new copy of Kafka’s novel? I think I left it on the desk.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, just for good measure, and ambled over to the desk. He spied the book sitting on the corner and plucked it up from its misplaced spot. “Yeah, I’ve got it here.” He slid his mobile from his back pocket and glanced at the time. Five, they had an hour before their dinner reservation. 

Aziraphale stood on top of a small step ladder. He had a few tomes in the crook of his arm and seemed to be making space for his newest addition. “Hand it here. It needs to go next to the others.”

“How many copies of the blasted book do you have, angel?” Crowley already knew the answer, of course: one signed, three first editions, and many others in various translations. But, he still enjoyed getting under the angel’s skin about his book obsession, and, of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that it made him smile to see Aziraphale so flustered. 

The angel huffed out a breath and snatched the copy of _The Metamorphosis_ from his hand. “I’ll have you know,” he turned, stretching up to place the book on the top shelf, but Crowley didn’t hear the rest of his words. 

His golden eyes had fixed on a point on Aziraphale’s back. The angel’s shirt had come untucked from the shelving of books, and at his waistline, or just slightly below it, was a mark along his skin. Crowley stared at the spot as his shoulder’s tightened. “Angel? What’s that?”

Aziraphale hummed absently and shelved the book. “What’s what, my dear?”

Crowley swallowed before speaking. “There’s a mark, on your back. Is…is that a tattoo?”

Aziraphale spun, almost knocking books off the shelf and plastered his back against the wall of novels behind him. “What? What are you talking about? Why would I ever? I mean, really, dear, you must be mistaken–”

“Angel.”

“Y-yes?”

“You have a tattoo.”

“I, well, um.” Aziraphale set the books on top of the bookshelf and eased down the stepladder. “If you must know, it was years ago, and it was on a whim, and it seemed very funny at the time, and I knew I could just miracle it away if I wanted. But,” he paused, taking a breath. “It seems as though I’d forgotten about it…until now.”

Crowley’s lips spread into a wide grin. “Can I see it?”

The angel flushed all the way down to his neck, and he stammered, “I, um, well, why would you even want to, I mean, it’s nothing that…oh, alright. But, the moment you laugh, I’m miracling it away for good.” He turned and lowered the rim of his trousers, revealing the place just above his left buttock. “You’d better not laugh.”

Crowley blinked at the ink that had colored his skin. He wanted to laugh, but not for the reasons Aziraphale thought. It wasn’t because he thought it was funny, more it was beautifully poetic, not that he’d ever admitted it to the angel’s face. Instead, he settled for something more to his own style.

“And they call me the tempting old snake. Angel, I think I’d lose my job if anyone else saw this.”

The tattoo was of a bright red fruit, about the same shade as his cheeks, with a wisp of black lettering through the middle that read, _Bad Apple_.

Crowley couldn’t help it. He raised his fingers, gliding them along the cursive letters. 

Aziraphale yelped and turned around again. “I didn’t say you could touch it.”

“Oh? So, then, you don’t want me to see?”

Aziraphale started to re-tuck his shirt. “See what?”

“If it tastes just as sweet as the real thing.” Crowley stepped closer, forcing the angel to press against the bookshelf once more. 

Aziraphale bit his lip, nearly driving Crowley over the edge right there. “I didn’t think to ask if you wanted a taste. Perhaps that was bad manners of me.”

“Very, very bad, my angel. Even if I think I can guess which of the two is sweeter.”


	4. Day Four: Princes of the Universe

Crowley stepped out of the Bentley into the chilled evening air. It nipped at his skin like city rats starving for a morsel. He tugged his jacket close and trotted up to the bookshop. Despite the CLOSED sign, he pushed opened the door, welcoming the blast of heat that greeted him. “Aziraphale, I’m here. You ready?”

The bell jingled as he closed the door behind him. It had only been a week since the angel had agreed to go with him to the concert. Crowley was somewhat surprised Aziraphale had said yes in the first place. The angel didn’t seem the type to enjoy doing something outdoors, surrounded by lots of humans, and lots of noise. Crowley didn’t usually invite him to concerts, but Freddie had insisted he bring someone special this time. And, who was he, demon or not, to say no to Freddie blasted Mercury. 

They had talked and drank together more than the demon had with most humans. Crowley could name the number of them on one hand that he had considered a real friend over his lifetime. It was a rule of his to not let any get too close as they tended to have too short life spans. It made their brief time together all that more heartbreaking when he had to say goodbye. 

The stairs creaked at the back of the shop.

Crowley’s mouth fell open. It took a few tries for his thoughts to scramble and catch up with him. “What? What are you…that’s?” 

Aziraphale reached the landing and smiled at him. “Oh, I’m ever _so_ excited. It has been ages since we’ve gone to listen to music out in the open. I can recall a time in Vienna, but that was probably centuries ago by now.” He paused, eyeing the floundering demon. “Crowley, are you alright?”

The angel stood wearing tartan Vans shoes, high-waist jeans, a—bloody hell! —white lace shirt and a jean jacket covered in an assortment of neon patches. His hair had been puffed up a bit, and his eyes beckoned for attention from glimmering black eyeliner. 

Crowley couldn’t help it. He sunk to his knees, though he wasn’t sure if it was because they were shaking too bad to hold him upright, or he feared they would drag him up to that irresistible tartan-loving angel, so he could kiss the daylights out of him. 

Aziraphale stepped closer, concern blanketing his face. “My dear, what’s the matter? Do you feel ill?”

He forced himself to his feet and thrust his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Fine. I’m fine. Finefinefinefine_fine_.”

Aziraphale glanced down. “It’s not…me, is it? I know I changed my attire a bit, but I hoped it would help me fit in with, well, I mean, you called Mr. Mercury your friend, so I, um, I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of them.”

Something snapped inside of Crowley, probably the last bit of his sanity. He stepped toward the angel, resisting with everything he had to wrap his arms around him. “Angel,” his voice had gained a noticeable husky quality as he tried very, very hard to not stare at Aziraphale’s nipples that peeked through the lace shirt. “I mean it now, when I say that I am, in fact, going to be _extremely_ worried about my job if any other demons see you wearing that tonight.” 

Aziraphale glanced up, meeting his eyes. His ears had tinted pink. “So, you like it?”

Crowley bit his lip, not trusting any words that dared to rush out, and resigned to a simple nod. 

They were in the car before Crowley trusted his voice again to not spill with confessions or beg for kisses. “Where, eh, where’d you get the outfit, angel?” He peeled out of the driving spot, willing the car to get to the concert in record time. 

“Oh, well, I mentioned it to one of my regular customers, and they recommended a place not far from here actually. They were ever so helpful. I told the store attendant about my dilemma, and they did an exceptional job helping me pick an appropriate ensemble. I was so lost when I first arrived. There are so many new accessories and colors, it’s hard to keep up with it all. Though I do think it will be better for me to go back to the clothes, I’m used to after tonight. I’m not sure I’m ready for this much change quite yet.”

“I don’t think the world could handle this much change from you,” Crowley groaned, trying to focus on the road. 

“Really, dear,” Aziraphale huffed, but his words held the hint of a smile. 

The rest of the drive consisted of mostly small talk about the bookshop or how many quarters Crowley had managed to glue to the sidewalk that day and then forgotten about them and tried to pick them up again. He was down to the single digits, so he considered it a win.

They parked, and Crowley tried not to shiver as he stepped out into the cold again. He knew once he had a drink or two, he’d warm up in no time, and like hell, he was going to use a miracle and have Hell laugh at him for not handling being chilly. 

Crowley glanced around at the humans walking over to the ticket counter. A few had stopped and were whispering to one another as they spotted Aziraphale. The demon tensed as he not only recognized the look in their eyes but could sense the undeniable hint of lust swirling in the air. Fuck, he had miscalculated that part of the evening. He didn’t think the angel would actually want to hook up with anyone there, but if they were going to be bombarded with the worst pick up lines in history over the next several hours, it would send Crowley into a really bad mood in no time. 

He ground his teeth and stomped over beside the angel. “Look, uh, for the sake of enjoying the music and all still. I think we need to take into account the human factor tonight.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow as he shut the car door. “The human factor?”

“Yeah, that. It’s going to be bloody annoying if, well, either of us has to fend off…unwanted advances all night.”

“Oh? Well, do you think it will be bad tonight?”

“Yes, without a doubt. So, uh, look, if you don’t want to, I understand. I am a demon and all, so it’s all, I don’t know, probably too gross, but if we held hands or something, then…well.”

Aziraphale sucked in a breath, then seemed to fiddle with the sleeves of his jacket. “I see. Well, I mean, if-if it halts unwanted advances, then I’m okay with it.” 

It was dark, but even in the parking lot lights, Crowley could make out the hint of a blush dusting the angel’s cheeks. Crowley stepped up next to him, and mentally cowed down the beast from inside him that roared to press him against the car. “Just tell me if it’s too much, and I’ll stop.”

Aziraphale nodded, and he held out his hand. 

Crowley took it, and they walked. Well, Aziraphale walked, Crowley tried to saunter and not trip over his own feet over a flat, obstacle-free surface. His fingers tightened around the angel’s grip. His heart was convinced they were on a date. But he knew he should _not_ want such things because those were dangerous ideas, yet Crowley was sure by now that he was made of _only_ dangerous ideas. He was a demon, after all. A demon who was undeniably and completely in love with an angel.

They reached the ticket check without Crowley face-planting onto the road or dropping to his knees and professing anything sappy to Aziraphale, so, so far, all was going swell. Their holding hands plan appeared to be working, much to the dismay of the nearby humans. 

Crowley could still sense the rising amount of lust in the air. He met the gaze of a few lingering eyes on his angel. So, he raised Aziraphale’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. 

Aziraphale flinched but didn’t release him. His eyes, however, had widened to a considerable degree. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, angel. These bloody humans keep getting ideas even with us holding hands. It’s fucking frustrating!”

Aziraphale glanced around, then his shoulders relaxed. However, his lips gained its slight mischievous grin. “Perhaps, they wouldn’t be staring so much if your trousers were not quite so tight, my dear.”

“Me?” Crowley paused before the concessions stand. “They’re staring at you, you idiot. You had to go and dress like a temptation, all wrapped in a neat little bow of lace.”

Aziraphale flushed, and his hands drew together. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “Is it too much? Should I change?”

Crowley held back his strangled snake noises with a ragged sigh. He was going to do something he’d kick himself for later. “Angel, you look amazing, really. Don’t let anyone else make you think otherwise. I…” He shifted, trying to not discorporate on the spot. “I love it, your outfit, that is.” Heat reddened his face all the way down his neck. He could feel it shielding him from the chilly night. 

Aziraphale stepped forward, taking both of his hands. “Do you really think so?”

“Would I lie to you?”

The angel smiled, trying to meet his eyes. “Well, I mean you do on occasion–”

“Not when it matters.” Crowley grimaced at his sappy slip and flicked his gaze at the angel. “If you keep smiling like an idiot, you’re going to start glowing.”

“Oh, right. Of course, shall we?” Aziraphale dropped one of his hands but laced their fingers together in the other. 

Crowley stumbled after him as they made their way to the outdoor stadium. The tickets got them near the front without any enormous speakers blasting at them. Crowley was glad for that for the angel’s sake, but he still worried they would be too close for Aziraphale’s liking. They stood in a huddle of people, all waiting for the concert to start. Most of them chatted amongst themselves, holding a beer or wine cup. 

It wasn’t long before the lights flared up. Thousands cheered as Queen took the stage. Crowley felt his lips quirk into a fond smile. He recognized the intro to Princes of the Universe. He’d seen them perform before, but each time had its own special flair, its own unique spark that made it special, and this time—he squeezed Aziraphale’s hand—was most definitely one of the times he’d never forget. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did have a bit more planned for this one but I was on the fence about making it any longer. 
> 
> *However, I will say that if I get some requests for more, I will probably add to it, or maybe make it into its own short fanfic. ^_^


	5. Day Five: A Nightingale Sings

Aziraphale and Crowley stepped out into the evening air. They had just had the most wonderful meal at the Ritz, not to mention Heaven and Hell had seemed amiable enough to leave them be, for a while, at least. Crowley had appeared in a much better mood at dinner, a little tired perhaps, but so much more at ease than the last time they had spoken alone. Aziraphale took a few steps down the sidewalk and glanced back at Crowley.

The demon gave him a small nod, shoved his hands in his pockets, and ambled forward alongside him. They walked together without any small talk, just the wisp of evening air swirling threw their hair, or a few car horns sounding in the distance. Aziraphale was thankful that it didn’t seem to be a tense or pregnant silence. Just two friends taking an evening stroll. 

Friends, Aziraphale thought, they were, in fact, that. 

He bit his lip. Was there anymore to it? Now that their respective sides were off their backs, they could explore that if they felt like it. Aziraphale did, yet every time he came close to mentioning a four-letter word, Crowley had snarled like it had personally offended him. He countered that they had held hands on the bus, but friends did do that on occasion. It had been an extremely eventful day or, well, week, so there was a perfectly logical explanation to their behavior. Aziraphale locked his hands behind his back, still thinking it over.

“What?” Crowley was glancing at him sideways. He’d always been quite keen on sensing the angel’s uneasiness. 

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if it came from averting the Apocalypse or defying their Head Offices, but he felt a bit braver about speaking on subjects which had hung between them for eons. “What are your plans? Now that the world hasn’t ended I mean.” Okay, so not too much braver, but it was a topic that could lead them somewhere toward repressed feelings, at least on Aziraphale’s case. He hoped so for Crowley as well, but in all honesty, he loved him no matter how they spent their time together. 

Crowley raised an eyebrow from behind his sunglasses. “Ah, well. I don’t know. We could go feed the ducks if you like. I’m sure they think we’re long overdue for a visit by now.”

Aziraphale stopped walking, forcing Crowley to pause and turn to him. He hadn’t meant that Crowley had to pick something that he wanted to do. Yet, he realized that was what they ended up doing most often. Whether it was a play, or feeding the ducks, or evening heading back to his place for a bottle of some expensive wine, it always came down to the angel’s preferences. So, Aziraphale straightened his stance and stared squarely at Crowley’s hidden gaze. “No.”

Crowley tilted his head. “No? Eh, okay, well, I guess we can do something else. I’m sure you’ve got–”

“I mean ‘no’ as in ‘no, we are not going to do whatever you think I wish to do.’ This time,” he hesitated, building back his courage again. “We should do what _you_ want, completely, whatever that may be. Though I really do hope that it’s not harassing those poor ducks or sending out some infernal computer cold or whatsit.”

Crowley stared at him for a long moment with an unreadable expression. “Why?”

Aziraphale let out an exasperated huff. “Well, my dear boy, if you haven’t noticed, which I really doubt, we always seem to get caught up in whatever I wish, or what you think I wish to do. Heaven and Hell no longer care about us or what we are up to, so let’s, um, I don’t know what they say these days, mix it up a bit. Yes, I think that’s right. Besides, it’s terribly rude of me to always pick our outings. I, well, um, I wish to be more considerate of you.”

Crowley snorted and turned his head away. “You wish to be more considerate of a demon?”

“No,” Aziraphale stepped forward, closing the gap between them. “I wish to be more considerate of you, my dear.”

Crowley spun, glancing back at him, then sauntered in a slow circle around him. He seemed to be contemplating something. Perhaps he thought Aziraphale wouldn’t be up for any demonic wiles. Aziraphale had tempted others for him in the past, though he never really enjoyed it, it wasn’t ever something that was truly evil. He’d never had to cause physical harm to a human, just well, more minor annoyances seemed to be Crowley’s specialties.

Aziraphale tried to ease the demon’s worries. “We could, um, go and make all the local coffee shops run out of Wi-Fee.”

“It’s Wi-Fi, angel, and it doesn’t really run out, it’s just…that’s not really something I want to do anyway.” 

“Please, just tell me what you have in mind then, I won’t be appalled. I mean really, my dear, we’ve known each other since the beginning, so I doubt there’s anything you could–”

“A-a kiss,” Crowley stammered. “I…want to kissss you.” His cheeks tinted a delicate shade of pink before he looked away.

“Oh.” Aziraphale hadn’t quite expected that, but he probably should have in some way. He remembered Crowley begging him to go to Alpha Centauri, that no matter what happened that they could simply go off together. However, Crowley appeared to be rethinking his current request, so Aziraphale knew he had to be brave, despite the fluttering butterflies that seemed to have infested his stomach. “Well, then, alright. Do you want to do it here, or would you prefer the privacy of the bookshop?”

Crowley snapped his gaze back to him and almost tripped over his own feet in the process. “What? What, are you serious?”

Aziraphale blinked. “Well, of course, I’m serious. Why in the devil wouldn’t I be?” He stepped closer again and clasped his hands behind his back. He tried to give Crowley a pleasant smile without any hint of nervousness and closed his eyes. Aziraphale waited. And he waited. He peeked an eye open to see Crowley stone still in front of him. “Well, are you going to? I feel silly standing here like this if you’re not going to do anything.”

“No.”

Aziraphale flinched, then felt an unmistakable surge of frustration. “No? Well, why not?”

“Not like this. Look, angel, I know you’re a being of lo–that word and all, but that’s not what I, uh, what I mean is that it isn’t the same…”

Crowley continued explaining, but Aziraphale had stopped listening. He thought he understood why the demon was hesitating. It was very similar to Aziraphale’s own hesitations that perhaps demons couldn’t love. Yet, he knew by then that they were both a bit different from the traditional limitations, though he suspected other immortals could, in fact, become like them if they so desired, he doubted that would happen any time in the foreseeable future. 

Right then, Crowley was uncertain if Aziraphale would see their kiss as anything other than a greeting or a simple exchange between friends. Luckily, for them both, Aziraphale knew how to rectify the situation. 

Aziraphale darted forward and snatched Crowley by the lapels. He yanked him forward and pressed his mouth against the demon’s lips, forcing him to stop his unyielding ramblings. 

Crowley stood frozen for a handful of heartbeats before a soft moan escaped his lips. Aziraphale pressed against him, deepening the kiss. His own body ignited as though scorched by Hellfire, though much more pleasantly so. He couldn’t remember how long he dreamed of that exact moment. They had kissed in the past, but it had always felt rushed, terrifying, and soaked in fear of getting caught. It had never been unchained, free of restrains, or unmarred by deep-seated worry for one or the other’s wellbeing. 

Crowley’s hands snaked up around him, tugging at his jacket, gliding up over his waistcoat, and settling in the soft curls of his hair. Aziraphale decided to not leave any doubt in Crowley’s mind. His tongue swiped against the demon’s lower lip, stealing another soft moan from his throat. Crowley opened his mouth, and Aziraphale gasped at the taste of tart wine that still lingered on his tongue. He savored him like the most exquisite meal. 

Aziraphale pressed against him, adding an edge of forcefulness to the kiss as though the angel could possess every inch of him. He wanted Crowley to know the depth of his longing, the numerous years of waiting, begging to convey how much Crowley meant to him. Aziraphale would give him anything, everything if he asked it of him, and now he needed him to understand it. He relaxed his grip and eased them out of the kiss.

They stood, foreheads leaning against one another, and panting with ragged breaths. 

Aziraphale let out a small chuckle. “You were saying, my dear?”

Crowley shook his head and hadn’t yet opened his eyes. “Nkg.” He licked his lips and tried again. “Nothing, angel. I wasss…being an idiot.” His words had gained their familiar hiss.

Aziraphale pressed another chaste kiss against his lips. “No, I think I was this time, for not realizing your feelings much sooner. And, if you are willing, I’d like to do that again, though perhaps with fewer onlookers.”

Crowley huffed out a breath. “Very. Very, _very_ willing. Your place or mine?” He raised his fingers to snap, ready to please his adoring angel, as a Nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.


End file.
